


Guiding Heart

by diaphanous87



Series: The Many Ships of Tilly [14]
Category: Dissidia: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Banter, Crossover, Developing Relationship, Dissidia: Final Fantasy NT - Freeform, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Lots of dialogue, Mid-Stormblood, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of light, No beta we die like mne, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Tilly would like off this roller coaster ride now, What Have I Done, a surprise character appearance at the end of Part One, picking up strays, road trip?, so would Magnai, the world of Dissidia, where are we?!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21853132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diaphanous87/pseuds/diaphanous87
Summary: Kidnapped and lost. Magnai and Tilly are not pleased by this strange development or these strange surroundings. Where were their companions? And for that matter, where was this place? Nothing made sense. It was frustrating. But they had to stick together, for weal or for woe.
Relationships: Magnai Oronir/Warrior of Light
Series: The Many Ships of Tilly [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536589
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Guiding Heart

**Author's Note:**

> A Two-Part Story. I mean it! TWO PARTS ONLY!
> 
> Also, I don't know what I'm doing. What else is new???

* * *

“So… this is bad.”

“Agreed.”

“Like, really bad.”

“I know!” Magnai rubbed his face in frustration. He eyed the miqo’te flittering around in a tizzy. Her spear, taller than her by far, glinted in the sunlight on her back. “Khaagan, please stand still!”

Tilly skidded to a halt before him. She bounced on her toes and wrung her hands. “What was that thing that sucked us up?” she asked, craning back her head to stare up at the towering xaela. “Did you recognize it? Because I sure didn’t. Oh no… we’re stuck! Do you think we’re stuck?” Her breathing sped up, her pupils narrowing even further than their usual slit shape. “The others aren’t here!” She squeaked when a heavy hand gently pressed down between her flicking ears.

“Peace, khaagan. The others, if they are here, are strong enough to survive without us. At least, I would think that they are.” Magnai nodded. He refused to marvel at the silken strands beneath his palm. Now was not the time. “Though they are not strong like us, they will live.”

“That’s not reassuring at all…” Tilly furrowed her eyebrows. “And with the Garleans breathing down our necks…” Her voice locked up before she could speak the imperial prince’s name. “Shit.”

Magnai stroked her fuchsia hair and cupped the back of her head. “All will be well. The Sun wills it so,” he rumbled. The auri stepped closer, nearly pressing against her small but strong body. Her soft scent of rosewater and sweet musk tickled at his senses. He breathed deep. “Come. Let us explore this place. We shall find a way back.” He got himself under control and stepped around the Warrior of Light. He blinked in surprise when her tiny hand slipped into his. He nearly died on the spot at the feel of her fingers intertwined with his digits. “Khaagan?”

“It’s Tilly,” the miqo’te said, jerking away her gaze to stare at the fields of flowers around them. “Let’s go.” She tugged and took the lead with determination.

Magnai let her, wonder on his face.

* * *

Tilly stamped her foot. “We’re lost!” she cried, turning to her companion. “There’s just flowers everywhere!”

Just as displeased, Magnai grunted. His golden eyes narrowed. He surveyed the swirling colors of the flowers. “I recognize not these blossoms. They are not of the Steppe.” He tugged on their joined hands to pull her close. “Khaagan, do you hear aught?” He watched her ears swivel and twitch. Her head tilted as she concentrated. But to his disappointment, she shook head. “Azim preserve us… And your nose?”

“I’m not a bloodhound!”

“Apologies.”

“It’s fine. My senses are pretty sharp.” She wiggled her shoulders. “Out of all of my sisters I was the best hunter in our village. So it makes sense that you would ask me that.” Her full lips pursed. “Unfortunately nothing’s pinging.”

“I sense nothing as well. Other than ourselves.”

“We’ve been at this for bells, surely. But it’s weird…”

The xaela hummed. “What is?” he wondered. He looked down at his… well he hesitated to say. Azim only knew how many times he had been shot down, even by his khaagan’s own healing mistress. He winced at the memory. “What is weird?”

“Shouldn’t the sun be moving in the sky? I don’t think it’s moved an ilm west. Or east. Or anywhere. It is weirding me out.”

Magnai froze. He jerked his eyes heavenward. “Azim…?” His little khaagan was right. The burning orb in the sky hadn’t moved since their arrival. He spat a curse and scooped up the desert-born miqo’te. Thankfully Tilly had banished her weapon into her armiger. She squawked and wriggled in his hold. She thumped her tail against his stomach.

“What’s the big idea?!”

“Your legs are too short.” The axe wielder jogged, his strides now much longer. “And I do not want to be under this false sun another moment. Shelter, we must find shelter.”

Tilly sighed, giving in. She clutched at the front of his leathers. “And where are we going to find shelter?” Her booted feet kicked over his forearm. “I don’t even see a single damn tree. And no mountains mean no caves,” she drawled.

“Doubt me not, little khaagan. The Sun shall find what he seeks!”

* * *

“The Sun shall find what he seeks,” Tilly mocked. She crossed her arms at her chest. She was still cradled like some damsel in the former khagan’s arms. “You’re full of yol poodoo!”

“I am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

* * *

“Is there no end to these flowers?!”

“Stop shouting, you big dumb scalekin!”

“There aren’t even any bees here!”

“Don’t squeeze me so tight!”

* * *

Magnai was sitting on the ground now, legs crisscrossed and arms folded against his chest. His axe was on the ground by his side. Level with his shoulders, flowers swayed. His tail thumped against the ground. He scowled hard enough that if his companion were the fainting type she would have keeled right over. But she wasn’t so his expression didn’t even make her blink. Tilly circled him, ripping off flower heads and throwing them into the distance. Her ears flicked in random directions. She was hissing miqo’te swears with a distinctly feline-like guttural growl.

But Tilly’s tantrum faded into boredom soon enough. She flopped down onto her belly behind her auri companion. She rolled to one side and then the other. Lurching up to her knees, the miqo dragoon crawled up to him. Her fingers dug into his top. Tilly shamelessly draped herself on his back, propping her chin on his head.

“What. Are. You. Doing?” Magnai fought not to hyperventilate at the feel of her full breasts pressing against his nape and the top of his shoulders. “Ma’tylda.” He wheezed when her arms swung around his neck, her forearms resting at his clavicle.

“I’m a Sun Seeker, you know.”

“What?!”

“But I really miss the stars and the moon. This place sucks.” She wriggled against his back. A sly smirk crossed her face when she felt his breath hitch. But it faded. “I knew someone like the sun once.” The non sequitur threw off the tone of their interaction thus far.

“Oh?” Magnai managed to wheeze out in a strangled tone. Her fingers were stroking his throat.

“After the banquet and the betrayal of the Crystal Braves, his light seemed like the only thing left. Everything else was extinguished beneath stone and blood. No hope was left to us, it seemed. A dawn cut short.” Tilly’s tail curled around to brush against his tricep. “He was so good yet beneath his smile I could see pain. But he cheered us on, offered us shelter and succor and love.” She rubbed her cheek against his hair. “He was best kind of friend. In another world… in another life… we could have…” Tilly sighed. “But he died. He died for me.”

Magnai’s hands fell into his lap. Jealousy, ugly and unwanted, bubbled in his chest. “I’m sorry you have known such loss,” he murmured.

“I’m tired, Magnai. I’m tired of people dying for me. My sisters and aunties. My sire. Our tribe’s Tia of the Ma clan. Him. Ysayle. Minfilia. Papalymo…. Oh Papalymo.” Tears soaked into his hair, wetting his scalp. “And I am afraid that with this war more will die and for who? Me? One bumpkin miqo’te who had the misfortune to be chosen by a goddess? Who cannot say no when asked for aid?” Her shoulders shook. “I want…”

“What do you want, Tilly? Speak and I shall listen.”

“I want people to live. If they must do something for me, then live.” Tilly sobbed. She barely felt herself be maneuvered into her companion’s lap. She was cradled in his arms, a strong hand holding her head against a broad shoulder. She buried her face into the leather and fur. “Live so that my fighting is worth it!” She wept for the lost. Her slaughtered village. Her dead friends. For everyone who had ever fought by her side and did not survive.

Craning his head back, he stared up at the unrelentingly blue sky. The false sun above did not even burn his eyes. Magnai clenched his jaw. The sounds of her weeping vibrated along his horns, filling his hearing. His khaagan… his little khaagan had such depths…

Nhaama.

He bent back down. He pressed a soft, butterfly kiss at her temple. His horn tips brushed her cheek. “Then I shall live,” Magnai said in her furred ear. It twitched toward him and her crying slowed. She peaked up at him with one red-rimmed eye. The bright green iris was like spring leaves. “I swear to you I shall live.”

“You can’t promise that,” Tilly croaked.

“The Sun promises to try… for you.” Magnai made a noise when her hand cupped his cheek. He leaned into the touch. “I shall not be extinguished so easily, little Ma’tylda.” The xaela huffed as she sat up in his lap. His tail twitched when her thighs went around his waist. She leaned up against him, her forehead cradled in the crook of his shoulder, the one opposite of the shoulder soaked with her tears. Tilly sighed at the feel of his arms wrapping around her. Her ears drifted backward. The urge to rub his horn against her hair was nearly overwhelming. The feel of her hands flat on his chest through his leathers threatened to undo him. Azim save him. “My…. Khaagan…” Magnai was dying by ilms at this rate.

“We should rest,” Tilly mumbled to his neck. Her breath was warm against his skin. “I’m tired…” She drifted off to sleep, her tail stilling save for the twitching leonine tip.

Magnai kept his hand at the small of her back, the other holding her shoulder on the opposite side of her small torso. He let out a shaky breath. He would get no rest, not like this. But the trust in her relaxation was enough to sustain him. He refused to think about how nice it would be to lay down and hold her. That way lay madness.

The scent of rosewater, sweat, and sweet musk filled his nose again as he gave in a little and nuzzled her bright hair. It was the only thing he would allow himself. And he swore he would kill whomever had pulled them into this endless flower field and its eerie, scentless blooms of white. They were going to get an axe to the face for this indignity. Magnai’s Nhaama was in his arms. But he could not and would not do a thing without her express permission.

Maybe he should thank their kidnappers instead…

* * *

Magnai forged through the flowers, axe in one hand. His other arm was propped under Tilly’s firm bottom. His hand gripped the sides of her breeches. Her legs were spread around his ribs now. He didn’t think about it. She was still asleep, fingers tight on the front of his leathers. The xaela had gotten tired of sitting in the field however. His ass ached from staying so long. So he had picked his Nhaama up and began walking.

High above, the false sun shone the same as it always did.

“Azim take that fake thing…” he muttered darkly. He stumbled to a halt however when somehow the scenery changed. One moment he was crushing flowers beneath his feet and the next his boot hit stone as he stumbled into dark gray surroundings. He whirled around. But the flower field wasn’t behind him anymore. It was nowhere in sight. Instead it was barren rock, nearly black, that greeted his sight. And above his head was a moon.

“Ah… no good. Tilly! Rouse yourself!” Magnai jostled the miqo’te in his hold. He jabbed his axe down to free up his other hand. He patted her thigh. “Ma’tylda Lucian! Wake!”

“Bwah?” Tilly sniffled and blinked awake. Her ears drooped. “Mag… what in the seven hells? Where’d the flowers go?” She slid down his front onto her feet. Broad hands steadied her. She rubbed her eyes. “Why is everything gray? And are those… rock formations? What happened to the flat fields?” But she didn’t give Magnai time to answer. She stiffened, her ears swiveling. Her eyes focused, face frowning. “Approaching footsteps, thirty yalms that way.” She pointed with her now summoned spear.

Magnai had no reason to disbelieve. He took up his axe at the ready. “Let us greet our guests,” he growled. Excitement shone in his golden gaze. “My lead or yours?”

Tilly, surprised by the question, glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and a bemused expression. “You lead,” she said. “You got the big axe, not me.” She cocked her head. “They’re moving away.” They ran on nearly silent feet. Well, Magnai’s run was nearly silent while Tilly’s was absolutely quiet.

* * *

“That… thing had… my face!” Magnai wheezed. He and Tilly watched as the chopped up monotone colored thing dissipated into aether. And like smoke on the wind, it blew away. “I do not like this place.”

“Do you. Do you think there are more of them? And with my face too?” Tilly asked. They looked at one another in horror.

“We should leave.”

“Yeah, totally. That way?”

“Excellent choice. Let us be quit of this place.”

* * *

“More?!”

“Azim and Nhaama deliver us!”

“Stop praying and kill it!”

* * *

There was cobblestone now and cheery market stalls all around. And no merchants, just eerie silence. There wasn’t even a breeze to make the banners wave. In the supposed distance was a castle, which was probably unreachable considering their current situation.

“No hunger. No thirst. And no people!” Tilly hunched her shoulders. She glued herself to Magnai’s side. Her hands were wrapped around the shaft of her spear and she held it close. “I want to go to the Steppe. I want to go home.”

Magnai’s heart clenched at the words. His Nhaama had called the Steppe home… “We will,” he swore. “We will go home. Together.” His weapon free hand pulled her against him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She barely came up to his chest, his tiny Nhaama, fully grown as she was. He felt her tail wrap around his and he gulped. “We will see the rising sun above the plains and hear the morning cries of the yol. I swear to you, Tylda.”

“I’ll hold you to that, you big lug.” She gave him a trembling smile. Her ears perked up suddenly. “Heads up!” More weird copy clones sprang from the shadows of the merchant tents, weapons aimed for the couple. They flew apart, their own weapons rising to meet their assailants.

Wood and cloth flew up into the air as one copy clone was thrown through a market stall. A banner floated down to the cobblestone. War cries and the ringing of steel echoed in the false marketplace.

* * *

“Is it weird that I don’t even need to pee? It’s been ages!”

“Ma’tylda, please.”

“Do you need to pee?”

“No.”

* * *

“We’re in the flower field. Again.”

“I see that, Mr. There-Aren’t-Even-Any-Bees.”

“This sun doesn’t even warm us! Azim should strike it down!” Magnai stomped his feet.

“I know.” Tilly scratched her cheek. Her deadpan expression belied her frustration. “Stupid fake sun.”

“This is the worst!”

“Absolutely.”

* * *

“Hey.”

Tilly screamed, threw her spear at the speaker, and jumped into the startled Magnai’s hold. He cradled her with one arm as she attempted to climb his head. Her tail bristled and she hissed. The xaela used his other hand to point his axe at the newcomer. His golden eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Whoa, wait! Wait, wait, wait!” The man who had appeared behind them held up his hands, waving. “Hold your chocobos!” He giggled nervously. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you guys!”

“Who are you?” Magnai demanded. “Speak your name to the Sun!”

“The… the sun?”

“Tell us your name!” Tilly screeched. “What do you want from us?”

“Right!” The stranger’s blue eyes widened. “I’m Noct Gar?” He took a step back when Magnai stalked forward threateningly.

“Was that a question or an answer?” Magnai asked, low and deep. On his shoulders, Tilly summoned a sword from her armiger to point at the young man before them. She gathered her feet underneath her, prepared to launch across the space between them and the stranger. “Answer, boy!” The xaela swung his axe in threat.

“PROMPTO!” the young man shrieked, stumbling back. “I’m Prompto! Please don’t make me into firewood!” He huddled into a squat, covering his head with his arms. “I’m lost and this place is weird and keeps changing and I don’t know what to do!!! But Noct disappeared from the car and now I’m disappeared from the car. And I met this lady and her boobs were almost popping out of her skanky dress and her hair looked like horns! Just straight up from her head! And she flung a fireball at my head! A FIREBALL! And this crazy dude with crazy eyes swung a giant katana at me! So I ran and I ran. And, and, and! IS THIS HELL?!” He collapsed into a puddle of tears and black clothing, his spiky blond hair bright against the dark color.

Tilly hopped down from her partner’s shoulders. She looked up at him. He shrugged at her. The miqo’te sighed. Returning her sword to her armiger and plucking up her spear to press against the magnetic harness on her back, she squatted down by the weeping boy. She gingerly patted his shoulder. “There, there. It’s okay,” she crooned.

“No it’s not!!!” Prompto wailed. “I want Iggy!” He latched onto her ankle.

Magnai grimaced. But he kept guard just in case copy clones decided now was a good time to attack.

This place… this world… mayhap it really was one of the seven hells…

* * *

**TBC**

**Author's Note:**

> Ta-da! It's Prompto! He is a very good boy, he swears. Welcome to the team?
> 
> Tap that kudos button and/or leave a comment if you like.


End file.
